


Ghosts of Christmas Past

by vcg73



Series: Helen's Holidays [1]
Category: Bonanza
Genre: Christmas, Family Loss, Gen, Originally Posted Elsewhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:22:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27764443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vcg73/pseuds/vcg73
Summary: Joe is feeling lonely on his first Christmas Eve without Hoss.Fits between the end of Season 13 and the beginning of Season 14.
Series: Helen's Holidays [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031145
Kudos: 4





	Ghosts of Christmas Past

**Author's Note:**

> I've written a ton of Christmas (or other winter holiday) stories across multiple fandoms over the years and never put any of them on AO3. This year felt like a good time to finally do it.

Big lacey snowflakes drifted through the clear cold air, lazy and unhurried in their journey toward the waiting earth. More of their kind had been falling for the past 20 minutes, forming the beginnings of what would soon become a thick blanket of white.

From his perch on the wide front steps of the family ranch house, Joe Cartwright watched the snow fall with a melancholy expression on his face. Some of the flakes caught in his thick grayish-brown hair and tried to balance upon his eyelashes before being blinked away.

He closed his eyes for a few moments, breathing deeply through his nose and enjoying the way that chilled pine air mingled with the pleasant odors of smoked ham and freshly baked cinnamon apples that were drifting out from the kitchen, nearly overwhelmed by the stronger smell of wood smoke that poured from the fireplace chimney far above his head. These were the scents of home, the smells of Christmas, now just a day away.

Joe’s eyes opened, and he dashed away a trace of tears as the familiar homey scents drove a spike of pain through him. Everything still looked the same, sounded the same, and smelled the same as every other Christmas of his life, but in reality, nothing would ever be quite the same again.

The sound of the front door creaking behind him brought a slight flinch to Joe’s hunched shoulders and he hastily scrubbed at his face again, not wanting whoever it was to see his tears. He was not ashamed of them, but he had no wish to ruin anyone else’s holiday mood.

“Oh, there you are!”

He turned his head, confirming the identity of his visitor. “You need something, Jamie?”

The young man seemed to catch the somber note in his voice, the hope for a negative response, for he hesitated a moment, then closed the door and ventured out into the cold, shivering as he wrapped thin arms around his body, tucking his fingers into his armpits for warmth. He seemed to debate with himself, but then sat down on the worn pine steps next to Joe. “Pa wanted me to let you know that supper is almost ready,” he ventured. “I’ve been looking all over the house for you.”

“Needed some air,” he explained shortly. Noting the discomfort in Jamie’s lean form, Joe shrugged his right arm out of its warm coat sleeve and wrapped the thick fleece-lined material around his adopted brother, welcoming him to move in close.

“This is Hoss’s coat,” Jamie exclaimed as it registered that the garment was actually big enough for them to share if they squeezed in tightly enough. His eyes widened as something else occurred to him. “You came out here to be alone, didn’t you? And now I'm in the way. I’m sorry, Joe. I’ll go back inside and tell Pa you’ll be along soon.”

He began to struggle out of the warmth, but was stopped when Joe’s hand clasped his arm. “It’s okay. You can stay, if you want to.” Brushing a hand through his hair, Joe smiled at the small cascade of snowflakes he dislodged. “I just wanted to do some thinking.”

“About what?”

A convenient lie came to Joe’s mind and was quickly discarded, the need to share suddenly overwhelming him. “About Hoss. About how strange it is without him, and how much he liked this time of year. I was just remembering how excited he always got when the snow would start falling on Christmas Eve.”

Jamie settled happily against the inviting warmth of Joe’s side, grinning at his words. “He sure did. The year I came to live on the Ponderosa was shaping up to be a real dry winter. Everybody said we weren’t going to get any snow, but Hoss was convinced that 'Ol Saint Nick' wouldn't let him down. And he was right! Just about dark on Christmas Eve it started snowing and Hoss couldn’t wait to get outside and watch it. You remember? He was out here doing a jig around the yard, laughing and yelling like an overgrown kid.”

Joe nodded, his smile growing warmer at the recollection.

Jamie laughed again. “I was still real worried about how I’d fit in here. I'd been trying to seem just as grown up as I could, but when I saw Hoss jumping around and having so much fun, I couldn’t resist. It snowed all that night and the next day you and I and Hoss made snowmen and threw snowballs, and he showed me how to make a Christmas angel.”

“Those were his favorite,” Joe revealed. “My ma taught him to make snow angels when he was little and he always claimed his were the biggest danged snow angels in the territory. It was Adam who introduced us both to the finer points of snowball making. He could build up a fortress wall faster than you could blink and he always lined up dozens of perfect little round snowballs in lines of ten, like they were soldiers going into battle. Hoss and I would team up against him, but he nearly always won.”

“You miss them both a lot," he stated, as Joe laughed at the memory but then followed it with a sad sigh. “I always miss my pa more than usual this time of year too. And now Hoss. I reckon we always will miss him, but at least we can be sure he’s watching over us. Hey! In the morning, do you want to help me build a new snowman and make a couple of angels? If we make them real big, maybe Hoss and my pa will look down and see them from Heaven.”

Joe turned his head, studying the earnest young face next to his. Jamie’s face was thin and pointed, cheeks dotted with the typical scars of burgeoning adulthood, his bright red hair frosted with a crust of new fallen snow. Jamie's sentiment was child-like but he spoke with the wisdom of one who has experienced loss and found the serenity of acceptance. Joe felt humbled by the faith shining in his bright blue eyes; the offer of comfort so freely given.

Giving the thin shoulder under his hand a fond squeeze, Joe got his feet under him and stood them both up, releasing his left arm from the heavy fur-lined coat and allowing Jamie to carry it back inside the house.

Ben Cartwright stepped back from the door as it opened under his hand. He had clearly been about to go out looking for his missing sons. “Joe?” he said, a thousand questions in the simple address.

“Jamie and I were just watching the snow, Pa. Talking about how much Hoss always loved Christmastime.”

Ben’s dark eyes softened with a fond look tempered by sadness. It wasn’t often these days that Joe spoke openly about his lost and much-loved brother. “He sure did, son. It was his favorite time of the year.”

Joe did not miss the rapid play of emotions on his father’s face. He hesitated a moment, then came to a decision. “I was just thinking that after dinner, maybe you wouldn’t mind telling us about some of the Christmases when Hoss was a youngster. The first one I can remember clearly was when I was about four and he was ten or so. You remember? The year he and Adam decided they were going out alone to hunt for the feast.”

Laughter brightened Ben’s sad eyes, warming them with nostalgia. “That’s the one where we wound up having vegetable stew and bread for Christmas dinner, wasn't it?”

Jamie chortled. “You’re kidding. Hoss was a great hunter!”

“Not then,” Ben corrected, still smiling. “He couldn’t bear to shoot a rabbit or turkey, or other animal that they found, because it was Christmas. Adam was disgusted and let everybody know it, but I noticed he didn’t bring anything home either.”

“And you told me that Santa Claus had invited all of the animals up to his house for dinner before he went out delivering gifts,” Joe said with a chuckle. "So that's why there hadn't been any left in the woods."

"Not the wisest parental fib," Ben admitted with a smile. "It was years before I could get you to eat a proper Christmas dinner after that.

“I bet Hoss didn't have that problem for very long. So, what else happened?” Jamie asked eagerly, leading the way to the dining room table where Hop Sing was laying out the last dish and grinning as he listened to their conversation.

Ben began outlining some of the family's earliest holidays in the rollicking animated tones of a born storyteller, and Joe found himself smiling and laughing as sincerely as Jamie did. Neither of his absent older brothers seemed as far away as usual tonight, and as the last of the melted snow dried from his hair and clothing, it felt as if a different, more persistent cold was melting away from his heart.

As Ben urged Jamie to tell of a Christmas he’d spent in his own childhood, the feeling of warmth grew. Embracing the present did not mean that one had to lose contact with loved ones from the past.

Joe felt eyes upon him as he slowly chewed this thought along with his roast beef and gravy. He looked up and found Hop Sing watching from the kitchen doorway. There was a deep understanding in the small man’s almond shaped eyes and Joe knew that he had somehow given away the direction of his thoughts. Raising his glass in Hop Sing’s direction, Joe nodded, smiling as the other man returned the gesture.

“Are you two sharing a toast without us?” Ben asked, having caught the exchange out of the corner of his eye as Jamie’s story wound down.

Hop Sing gave a little bow and came forward as Joe stood and raised his glass higher, waiting until the other three men poured themselves something to drink and followed suit. “Here’s to family; past, present and future. May we never forget what they mean to us. A Merry Christmas to us all.”

As the sentiment was echoed and the glasses chimed together, Joe swore he could hear an echo of Hoss’s hearty laughter blending into the sound.

THE END


End file.
